


A Clash of Ideologies

by Cameo (CameoSF)



Series: Debts of Honor [1]
Category: Eroica Yori Ai o Komete | From Eroica with Love, Third Reich - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-04 23:59:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3097406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CameoSF/pseuds/Cameo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian and Klaus cross paths with a mysterious man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Clash of Ideologies

**Author's Note:**

> Contains 'off-screen' non-consentual sex.

            “Get out of my way, Idiot!”

            Dorian moved aside to let Klaus take the lead.  The corridors were empty, and his whisper threatened to echo in all directions.  Although they hadn’t seen anyone on this floor of the mansion, it was no use taking chances.

            When the dark-haired NATO officer turned another corner and headed up another flight of stairs, Dorian had to protest. “We’re going the wrong direction.”

            “Feel free to go back the way we came,” Klaus replied shortly. “And when you’re captured, do not expect me to rescue you.” He continued climbing upward.

            “I mean, why are we going up?  We need to find an unguarded exit--”

            “We are heading for the roof.  I want to get a view of the grounds first.”

            Dorian followed quietly.  The mansion was huge; they hadn’t been near a window in a half an hour, and he was admittedly turned around.  Besides, Klaus had their only guns, his magnum and an automatic, and the place was swarming with KGB.

            They had expected the owner of the mansion, one Vlad Tarskov, to be away at a KGB convention this weekend.  Klaus’s plan had been to sneak in, liberate the documents stolen from a NATO courier earlier that month, and sneak out again.  Eroica was needed to open the safe while the Major and his men searched the place for traces of other illicit activities.  When Eroica discovered at the last minute that Tarskov would in fact be hosting the convention, he’d ordered his own men to waylay the Major’s, believing it would be easier to do the job without a portion of the alphabet following them around.  He’d been right to a point: he and the Major had been able to break in and locate the documents without being detected.  Upon attempting to leave, they’d come face to face with one of the thugs brought in for security.  The Major had knocked him out and gotten his weapon, then they’d hidden him in a linen closet.  At any moment he could be found and an alarm sent out.  Eroica wanted to be much closer to an exit when that happened than he was now on the top floor of an immense and convoluted building.

            “Here,” Klaus said suddenly, choosing one door apparently at random from a half dozen that lined the upper corridor.  It wasn’t locked, and he disappeared through it.  Dorian felt fresh air gust past him, but he didn’t follow Klaus onto the roof; another door had caught his attention.  It was different from the others in that it held a brand-new and very large locking mechanism. 

            Intrigued, Dorian knelt down to examine it.  He’d never opened one of this type before, and the challenge was more than he could resist.  Keeping an ear cocked for sounds from the stairs, he pulled out his kit and went to work.

            Klaus came back just as he was finishing.  The lock opened silently, and Dorian cautiously pushed the door ajar.  There was no sound from within.  The only light came from a bare window, but it was enough to show what else the room contained: one chair, one bureau, and one bed.  The latter was occupied.

            “We must head for the west wing,” Klaus was telling him. “That is where the garage is.  We will hot-wire a vehicle--”

            “Darling, shut up for a minute and come here,” Dorian requested softly.  His tone evidently alerted Klaus, because for once the German obeyed without argument.

            The figure on the bed appeared very small, but it was an unusually large bed.  He lay on his back, covered to the waist by a thin sheet.  His arms were stretched above him, his wrists cuffed to the headboard.  Masses of dusky hair spread around him almost obscuring his thin face, but he was clearly either asleep or unconscious.

            “Any idea who it is?” Dorian whispered.  Something in Klaus’s silence made Dorian look at him quickly. “We can’t leave him here.”

            After a moment, Klaus nodded. “You are right, we cannot.  Uncuff him.”

            Dorian did so easily, bringing the slender arms down with care, but the young man did not stir.  Up close he was obviously a man, although at first sight, Dorian had not been sure.  His features were delicate, his lashes long against his cheeks, his lips soft and at the moment pale.  The abundant hair was a lustrous black and got in the way as Dorian tried to pick him up.  He finally just wrapped the sheet around the unconscious man in preparation for hauling him off the bed.

            “Let me.  You take this,” Klaus ordered impatiently, thrusting the automatic into Dorian’s

  1.   He then picked up the stranger without any visible effort and turned towards the door. “Do you know which way is west?”



            “Yes.” Dorian had glanced out the window and oriented himself.  He looked from Klaus’s burden to his own. “I’d rather have a man in my arms than an Ouzi, but I guess this will work.”

            “Pervert.  Move!”

            They rapidly made their way to the west wing and successfully reached the ground floor without meeting any more thugs.  There they had to dodge the guests several times, once by ducking into an unused study, once by squeezing into a pantry.  Dorian, watching Klaus try to avoid contact with him in the narrow space, kindly did not make any of the comments running through his mind.  His grin said it all anyway.

            At last they slipped into the large garage, which was empty of people but offered a wide choice of automobiles.  Klaus was not even breathing hard.

            “The Mercedes,” he instructed.  Dorian was not in the habit of stealing cars, but a lock was a lock, and he had it open in half a minute.  Klaus laid the unconscious man on the backseat and took the wheel, barely giving Dorian time to climb in beside him before he had the vehicle hot-wired and moving.  An automatic signal opened the gates for them as soon as the car triggered it, and they were able to drive off the grounds without being challenged.

            “Where are we going?” Dorian inquired when Klaus turned right onto the road that ran past the estate.  Since they were in the countryside, even the main roads were unpaved and winding.  Within minutes they were out of sight of the mansion.

            “There is a safe-house near the coast,” Klaus told him, most of his attention on the rough terrain.  The sun was beginning to set behind them. “There will be a radio there from which I can contact my men.  And NATO must be told that the KGB gathering has been moved.”

            “”Will they be able to come for us by boat?”

            “Yes, unless your men have sabotaged that too!”

            “They wouldn’t--”

            “This is the last time they are coming near my subordinates!  I mean it, Eroica!”

            “I know you do, darling.  You’ll be sure to blame my men, won’t you, rather than yours?”

            Klaus ground his teeth for a moment.  Dorian glanced back to make sure they weren’t being followed, and was startled to see their passenger’s eyes were open.  He was watching them solemnly, unmoving until he met Dorian’s gaze.

            “Who are you?” he asked in German.  They’d been speaking that language simply because Klaus had been too irritated during this entire mission to speak English.

            “My name is Dorian.  This is Klaus.  Who are you?” Dorian replied.

            “...Valery.” His eyelids drooped.  When the car hit a hole, Dorian saw his lips tighten.

            “Are you injured?”

            Valery shook his head. “What do you want with me?”

            “We just freed you from Tarskov.  Why was he holding you there?”

            “Why did you free me?”

            Dorian exchanged a glance with Klaus, who allowed him to continue the questioning.  He was studying Valery in the rearview mirror.

            “We found you chained to a bed.” Dorian explained, twisting around to face the stranger. “It looked as if you were a prisoner.  Why wouldn’t we free you?”

            Valery opened his mouth as if to speak, hesitated, then his enormous eyes closed and he seemed to slip away again.

            “Very curious,” Klaus observed, this time in English.

            “Very.  You have no idea whom he might be?”

            “The name is Russian.  Perhaps he is Tarskov’s personal guest.  Perhaps Tarskov is also a pervert.”       

            Dorian considered their passenger.  He was indeed lovely, exotic in a manner more Asian than Slavic, and the position they’d found him in was certainly suggestive.  Something in his attitude convinced Dorian that there was more to it than that. “How far to this safe-house?”

            “Another hour.”

            “Let’s hurry, darling.  I think our ‘personal guest’ is in need of medical attention, as well as food and rest.”

            Klaus didn’t respond.  He merely lit up a cigarette and hit the accelerator.

            It was fully dark when they arrived at a cottage set well back from the road, which by that point was little more than a rutted trail.  They’d seen no other signs of habitation for miles.  The coast

was invisible behind the building, but Dorian could hear the unmistakable sounds of moving water.

            “How... quaint,” he remarked as they climbed out of the car.  He eyed the small structure sadly, aware that he shouldn’t have expected anything different. “Is there electricity?”

            “No.  There will be a generator for the radio.”

            “Indoor plumbing?”

            “Perhaps.” Klaus leaned into the car to retrieve their guest, but Dorian knew he was enjoying the Brit’s dismay.  Dorian wouldn’t have put it past him to have selected this place just to annoy his unwanted partner. “Open the door.”

            Dorian picked one more lock and stepped inside.  At least the interior was clean and apparently undisturbed.  He spotted a bedroom towards the rear, and preceded Klaus there in order to turn down the covers on the narrow bed.  Klaus deposited his burden and stood back.

            “There should be first aid supplies here somewhere,” he stated. “I am going to find the radio.”

            “You do that, darling,” Dorian said sweetly, and made a face at Klaus’s back as he left the room.  He thought he heard a soft sound from the bed, but when he peered at its occupant, the latter still seemed to be out cold.

            Dorian explored the bedroom first, unearthing a welcome store of candles in a shallow closet.  He lit a dozen around the small room and pulled the drapes over the windows.  To his relief, a second door proved to lead to a bathroom, also small, but with running water.  While waiting for it to flow clear and warm, he returned to the bedroom and sat down to unwrap their guest.

            “I am grateful to you for freeing me,” Valery said suddenly, shifting away before Dorian could remove the sheet.  He sat up a little, wincing. “I can take care of myself now.”

            “Are you sure?  We didn’t see any wounds, but...”          

            “I am sure.”

            He slowly unwound the tangled sheet, revealing, as Dorian had suspected, that he was naked underneath.  There were bruises on his arms and legs, which Dorian guessed were from his struggles, and other marks on his torso.  Dorian knew very well what had caused those.  He was silent, refusing to leave until he was certain that Valery could make it to the bathroom by himself.  After Valery tried to stand up and sank down on the mattress again with a soft cry, he shook his head.

            “You’d better let me help you.” Dorian offered his arm.  This time Valery made it upright.  He let Dorian assist him into the other room and stood by while Dorian filled the old, claw-footed tub.  He then needed help stepping into it.

            “I am not injured,” he volunteered.  The old-fashioned tub was deep and he was submerged almost to his shoulders in fairly hot water.  His hair floated all around him. “I am just weak.  They didn’t feed me very often.”

            “How long were you there?” Dorian asked gently.  He stripped off his own dark sweater, set aside the shoulder holster that held his largest knife, and moved behind Valery.  As the other made haphazard efforts to wash himself, Dorian used a bar of soap on the hair, lathering up any portions that drifted his way.

            “What day is it?”

            “Friday, the sixth.”

            “I was there for ten days,” Valery finally said.  He closed his eyes and sighed as Dorian poured water over his head. “Thank you.  I was not allowed to wash either.”

            “Why were they holding you there?” Dorian noticed that Klaus had come to the open doorway.  Valery’s eyes were still closed. “Did they molest you?”

            “Yes.”

            “Are you gay?”

            “Yes.”

            Neither voiced the thought that at least he’d been familiar with the physical act.  Klaus snorted and left the room as if they were deliberately trying to exasperate him with their topic.

            “Your companion has a bad temper,” Valery commented without moving.  He seemed to have come to a full stop, content to sit in the warmth and let Dorian tend him.  Dorian could hear the weariness in his voice.

            “And that’s one of his good qualities,” he said lightly. “Klaus is a bit rigid, but he gets the job done.”

            “What were you doing in that place?”

            “That’s a long story.  Are you ready for some food?”

            Valery nodded.  Dorian wrapped his hair in a towel, then paused in surprise when he realized what had been hidden by the dim light: a tattoo of an eagle covered Valery’s back from shoulder to shoulder, its spread wings curling around his biceps, its tail feathers reaching halfway to his waist.  A thin burn scar ran diagonally through it. 

            “After I have heard your story,” Valery murmured, waiting patiently while he examined it, “I will tell you mine.”

            “It’s a deal,” Dorian agreed.  He dried him with another towel, and wondered how much he could tell without prompting Klaus to throw a fit.

            In the main room Klaus had lit more candles and begun cooking on the wood-burning stove some food that had evidently been left behind by the last occupants.  Dorian hated to think how old it was.  Right now it was more important to get something nourishing into their patient.

            He’d given Valery his sweater to wear, which covered the shorter man almost to his knees, and now he settled him on a dusty sofa.  Klaus wordlessly produced a blanket to cover the rest of him.  He made no comment on Dorian’s state of semi-dress, simply handed him his own wind-cheater with a scowl.

            “Did you contact your men?” Dorian asked, donning it.  He was careful to hide his elation.  There was a good chance he’d get to keep the jacket, since Klaus would be forced to burn it if reminded whose skin it had touched.

            “Yes.  They will be here tomorrow afternoon.”

            “Did you tell them we are three now?”

            “I gave them this one’s description.  They are searching NATO files.”

            Valery sat up a little straighter. “NATO?  Is that whom you work for?”

            “Yes.” Klaus went to stand over him, rather intimidating at six foot two even if he wasn’t trying to be. “I am Major Eberbach of NATO.  This is...”

            “Dorian Red Gloria.” Dorian smiled and sat beside Valery. “I freelance for NATO occasionally.  Did you know that the owner of that house is a member of the KGB?” Valery didn’t answer, but his lack of reaction answered for him. “He had something that belonged to NATO.  That’s why we were there, to get it back.  We got a bit sidetracked while leaving, so it was sheer chance that we found you in that room--”

            “The item we retrieved might not be missed for days, but you will be,” Klaus took over. “With any luck, Tarskov will think you escaped by yourself and knocked out the fellow in the linen closet--”

            “Klaus’s handiwork,” Dorian threw in.

            “--and stole the car.  But if he doesn’t, he will check his safe and realize that the other item is also gone.  Then he will know who was there--”

            “And while he might not attempt to get the item back, what about you?  Will he try to come after you?  Why was he holding you there?”

            Valery had been turning from one to the other as they spoke, expressionless.  He didn’t seem at all disconcerted at being mixed up in KGB/NATO intrigue.

            “He will not come after me,” he finally stated. “He was lucky to get his hands on me once.  He knows it will not happen a second time.”

            Klaus sat down across from the sofa in a cracked recliner. “Who are you?”

            “I’ve told you my name.” Valery’s voice and gaze were very steady. “I too work for an organization that is at odds with the KGB.  I am supposed to be on holiday for two weeks.  Tarskov ambushed me when I left the airport and has held me ever since.  He intended me to be dead by the time my friends missed me.”

            “What organization?”

            “I cannot tell you that.”

            “Then how can we contact your friends to let them know you’re safe?” Dorian asked reasonably. “Klaus, isn’t dinner starting to burn?” Klaus refrained from swearing as he returned to the kitchen.  Dorian met Valery’s eyes. “Is your organization also at odds with NATO?”

            “In some ways.”

            “Then is there a particular person we can contact?”

            “Yes... Sebastian, my... employer.”

            “Why did Tarskov want you dead?”

            “I am the only thing that prevents him from killing Sebastian.”

            Dorian frowned, but an odd note in the other’s voice told him he was serious.  He tried to envision Valery as a threat to anyone, failed, and set the concept aside. “It’s not like the KGB to employ such... personal methods to eliminate their enemies.”

            Valery was silent for a moment, while Klaus came back with a tray holding tinned stew and biscuits.  He set it down on the coffee table and resumed his seat as if he’d been keeping tabs on the

            “He knows that Sebastian values me,” Valery finally said. “So he knows that raping me would anger him.  For Tarskov, it was a message to Sebastian.  For the men who molested me, it was a perk of the job.  They were enjoying it.  In fact, it was one of them who brought me food in order to keep me alive for the two weeks.  Tarskov thought I was being starved.”

            “That bastard!” Dorian exclaimed.  He didn’t expect Klaus to share his indignation that anyone would use rape as a message, therefore he was startled to see an unusually sympathetic look on the German’s face. “Won’t Sebastian want to take revenge?”

            “Yes.  He will.” Valery left it at that.

            “Eat now,” Klaus said flatly after a pause. “I will stand watch tonight in case Tarskov sends a search party.”

            Dorian passed around the food, and it did not taste bad at all.  Klaus ate quickly, then went out to a nearby shed to radio his men again.  Valery ate a full serving, then leaned back in exhaustion.  He unwound the towel, letting his almost dry hair fall free.

            “You use the bed,” Dorian told him. “I’ll sleep on the sofa, and relieve Klaus later.  Do you need anything?”

            “A comb?” Valery asked with a faint smile.

            “I’ll see if I can find one.”

            Valery was able to walk into the bedroom by himself.  He didn’t offer to return Dorian’s sweater, and Dorian didn’t remind him.  Instead he waited for the other to climb into bed and bury himself under the covers before blowing out all but one of the candles. 

            “Thank you again for bringing me out of there,” Valery whispered as Dorian was leaving the room. “That is not how I wish to die.”     

            “You’re very welcome.  Try to rest.  I’ll keep Klaus from harassing you tomorrow.”

            He left the door open.  Klaus had not come back, so Dorian cleaned up the kitchen and fixed the sofa as his bed.  He left one candle burning here too, glad the night wasn’t cold.  There were few enough blankets as it was.

            Dorian dozed for a while, but the sofa was too short, and he couldn’t get comfortable.  He woke when Klaus came in, and lay silently, content to listen to the German move throughout the cottage.  He was checking every window, which Dorian guessed was just busy work.  He didn’t envy Klaus’s self-appointed task of staying awake all night.

            When Klaus went into the bedroom, Dorian was surprised to hear voices.  Curious, he listened, concerned that Klaus was going to be offensive to their secretive guest.

            “All is secure.  Go to sleep,” Klaus was instructing in his normal tone.

            “I haven’t thanked you,” Valery murmured.  Dorian had to strain to hear his soft voice. “I am grateful, Major.  I hope you haven’t jeopardized your mission because of me.”

            “I have not.  Getting you out of that house was more important.  Lives are more important than documents.”

            “Even the life of someone who might be your enemy?”

            “In this case, even that life.” Klaus had lowered his voice too, and Dorian opened his eyes when he heard the bed creak, as if the German had sat down on it. “I have not discovered yet who you are, but I will.  If you are an enemy of NATO, I may have to take you into custody.  Are you prepared for that?”

            “I haven’t the strength to fight you, Major.”

            “You would be wise not to.”

            “Your friend has been very kind to me.”

            Klaus made a derisive sound. “He is not my friend.  He is my colleague at the moment.”

            “He thinks highly of you.”

            “When that mop-head thinks at all.”

            “It would be much more awkward if he were not here.”

            “That is true.  I would not have found you.  Dorian’s curiosity led him to break into that room.” Klaus hesitated, and when he spoke he was uncustomarily reserved. “He is better than I at talking about such things as were done to you.  And at helping with them...”

            “I haven’t needed his help,“ Valery assured him. “I have been raped before, and worse.  It no longer has the same effect on me.”

            “I find that hard to believe.”

            “It is other things that disturb me now.”

            “Such as?”

            “Such as the job I do.  I don’t enjoy it.  I never did, but now I wish there were someone else as good at it as I am.  Someone who could keep my... employer safe as well as I do.”

            “He is an important man?”

            “Very important.  To the organization and to others.”

            “And to you?” Klaus sounded positively gentle, making Dorian sit up straight in shock.

            “Especially to me.”

            There was a brief silence.  Dorian was on the verge of rushing to the bedroom door, but at last he heard footsteps.  Klaus came into the main room, checked the view from each window once more, then sat down on the recliner.  A soft thunk was the sound of the Ouzi being set on the floor beside it.  A second soft sound was that of Klaus lighting a cigarette.

            “You like him, don't you?” Dorian whispered.

            “Don’t talk nonsense.  Go back to sleep,” Klaus replied, but he too kept his voice low.

            “He may be a criminal in NATO’s eyes.  I suspect he’s given us false names.”

            “Very likely.  Mr. A searched our database, but he could not find a match.”

            “Even with that hair?”

            “A number of men in our database have ridiculously long hair.”

            “And the tattoo?”

            “What tattoo?  Damn it, Dorian, you didn’t tell me--”

            Dorian described the tattoo, and from Klaus’s sudden silence knew it meant something to him.  He waited, but the Major apparently didn’t feel a need to discuss it.

            “Klaus?  Do you know what organization he belongs to?” he insisted after several minutes.

            Klaus’s tone was flat. “Yes.  Sleep now.  There is nothing we can do till morning.”

            “You aren’t going to call it in?”

            “No.” Klaus stood up abruptly. “Not yet.”

            Dorian lay back, bewildered.  He watched Klaus go into the kitchen, and had fallen asleep before he came back.

            Sunlight woke him.  He stretched and yawned, slowly remembering why he was so stiff.  He’d risen and was heading for the bathroom before he realized that the bed was empty.  A few minutes later he found Valery in the kitchen with Klaus, the former perched on the counter while the latter prepared breakfast.

            “I’m sorry,” Dorian greeted them. “I meant to relieve you, Klaus.  How are you doing?”

            “I am fine.  Do not worry about me.”

            “I’m well too,” Valery added when Dorian turned to him. “No one has come near the house.  Tarskov would do better to hide from Sebastian’s wrath than to try to get his hands on me again.”

            “Perhaps we should find some clothes for you,” Dorian suggested suddenly, and tried not to blush when they both stared at him.  Although he was all too aware of Valery’s bare legs, Klaus seemed impervious.  He would never have been so blasé if it were Dorian lounging around half-clad. “I mean, you must be cold.”

            “There are boxes stored in the shed.  I will look for something the next time I call in,” Klaus promised.  He started handing out plates of hash, and the subject was dropped.

            While they ate Dorian watched them together, unable to pinpoint what was bothering him.  Klaus seemed more preoccupied than anything else, and Valery was certainly not enticing him deliberately.  He didn’t have to: he’d found a comb somewhere and his dark hair now hung smooth and sleek past the hem of the sweater, almost to his knees.  He was no longer pale, and his eyes shone a deep violet blue.  He was one of the most beautiful men Dorian had ever met, he was gay, and for some reason, Klaus had not hated him on sight.  That Dorian found very disturbing.

            “What time are your men due?” he asked presently.

            “I will call in now and find out,” Klaus stated, setting his empty plate in the sink.

            “Why is it taking so long for them to arrive?” Valery asked innocently.

            Klaus glared at Dorian. “Ask his lordship!” he snapped, and left the house at once.

            Dorian sighed. “I didn’t think his men were needed on this mission,” he explained mildly. “So after Klaus and I had been dropped off, I had my men hijack the plane NATO had chartered, along with all his subordinates.  They were to land it in the remotest area they could find and disable it, and although I’ve had no further contact with them, I gather they succeeded.  Klaus’s men have had to hire a boat.”

            Valery didn’t comment on the wisdom of this maneuver. “The Major called you ‘his lordship’?”

            “Yes.  Didn’t I mention I’m Lord Gloria?”

            “British.  And your men are your servants?”

            “Sort of.  I employ a great many people.” Dorian was not ready to reveal his alter ego or his profession. “Where are you from?  I haven’t been able to place your accent.”

            “I’ve spent a lot of time in Germany,” Valery admitted, then slid off the counter. “Let’s do the washing up, shall we?”

            By the time Klaus returned, they’d cleaned up the kitchen and Valery had gone to lie down again.  Dorian busied himself in the main room, anxious to talk to Klaus alone even though he knew it would not go well.  It rarely did.

            Klaus’s expression was not encouraging when he stomped into the house.  Without acknowledging Dorian’s presence, he disappeared into the kitchen, where drawers opened and slammed closed again.  Then he came out and crossed to the bedroom.

            “He’s sleeping,” Dorian told him quickly.  Klaus paused, looking stubborn. “Leave him be.  You didn’t find any clothes in the shed?”

            Klaus pulled the bedroom door shut. “I did not look.”

            “Then you do prefer him dressed like that?” Dorian could have bitten his tongue, especially when Klaus faced him with a completely baffled expression.  Instead he heard himself babbling. “I mean, he’s very attractive, isn’t he?  Small and dark and delicate.  Not a bit like me.  He doesn’t argue with you or get in your way or--”

            “What are you talking about?” Klaus demanded.  When Dorian made himself shut up, reddening slightly, the German suddenly understood.  He rolled his eyes. “Mein Gott!  You are jealous of him?  You are insane!”

            “Am I?” Dorian challenged, rallying. “You’ve despised me from the day we met!  You’ve always said it was because I’m gay and a thief.  Well, he’s gay too, and some sort of criminal, but you treat him a thousand times better than you’ve ever treated me!  I’m just not your type, is that it?  No matter how I try to win you over--” He overrode Klaus’s attempt to dispute that. “--No matter how often we work together, or how many times I save your life, or how much I love you, you are never going to return it because I’m just not what you’re looking for, is that it?”

            He’d rendered Klaus momentarily speechless.

            “And then Valery comes along, everything I’m not, and suddenly sexual orientation doesn’t matter, and I suppose he could be an international hitman and it wouldn’t matter--”

            Dorian broke off as Klaus suddenly lunged at him, but all the German did was grasp his elbow and drag him into the kitchen.  He closed the door firmly behind them.

            “Listen to me, you idiotic imbecile!” Klaus hissed in English. “I did not look for the clothes because I was distracted by what I learned.  I now know who Valery is, and you are wrong - it does matter!” Dorian opened his mouth, then closed it in order to listen. “His name is Matoba Fuyuhiko.  He’s a Japanese national of mixed ancestry.  He works for an organization we know only as the COA.  They are a German-Japanese alliance dedicated to correcting the mistakes of World War II.”

            “Isn’t that a good thing?”

            “No, because the mistake they made was losing!”

            “Oh...” Dorian blinked.

            Klaus still had Dorian’s arm in his grip; he now shook him till his curls bounced. “Up till a few years ago, Valery was their top assassin.  Since then he’s been the personal bodyguard of the leader of the German faction, this man he calls Sebastian.  That is not his real name either.  Governments world-wide have been looking for Fuyuhiko, but we did not have an accurate description till now.” He paused for rebuttal, but Dorian didn’t know where to begin. “I will have to take him in for questioning.  NATO needs to know more about this COA, and we will never have a better source.”

            Dorian had completely forgotten his reason for assailing Klaus. “But he trusts us, or at least he should be able to!  We saved his life; we can’t turn around and deliver him to his enemies!”

            “I warned him last night that I might have to take him into custody,” Klaus replied stonily.

            “But he was kidnapped and tortured!  His defenses are down!  It’s not fair to take advantage of his moment of weakness!”

            “This is not a game!  Fairness does not enter into it!”

            “But... he told you himself that he doesn’t want to be a part of it anymore.  He stays because of Sebastian,” Dorian stated. “You can’t punish him for loving someone.”

            Klaus released his arm with an oath. “You are not to be believed!  Has anything I have said made it through that thick skull of yours?  Valery is an assassin!  If I do not take him in, he will kill again.  Do you want that on your conscience?”

            “No, and I don’t believe he will kill without provocation!” Dorian suddenly smiled, remembering his earlier concerns. “Does this mean you aren’t attracted to him?”

            Seeing Klaus speechless twice in ten minutes was quite gratifying.  The German moved his mouth for a few seconds, then stepped away from Dorian as he regained his temper.

            “You are so ridiculous, you make me forget English,” he informed Dorian seriously. “Every-thing you have said is ridiculous.  I am not attracted to this man.  I am not attracted to any man, whether he is small and dark or tall and blond.  I say this one million times and still you do not believe it.”

            Dorian’s eyes were huge. “I can’t afford to believe it.”

            “I do not hate you only because you are gay and a thief.  I also hate you because you are loud and perverse and obstinate and... and I never know what to expect from you!  You undermine my work and you break the laws I have sworn to uphold.  I cannot possibly be attracted to that.”

            “But I’m also the best partner you’ve ever worked with.”

            “You are the only partner I have ever worked with.” Klaus may have meant it as a cut, but Dorian’s heart was humming.  He knew he was grinning despite Klaus’s words. “You are everything I hate in a man.  You say you are not my type as if it were some great discovery, but that is exactly what I have been telling you for years!  Why will you not accept it?”

            “Because it’s been years, and we’re still working together.  If you truly hated me, you would have found a way to be rid of me by now,” Dorian said confidently.

            Klaus actually threw up his hands. “I give up.  You are too thick to hear me.”

            “Maybe I just hear what you aren’t saying.”

            That seemed to be the final straw.  Klaus turned on his heel and left the kitchen in a huff.  Dorian was eager to savor his new assurance, but he followed, concerned that Klaus might intend to confront Valery.  He hadn’t yet finished arguing on his behalf.

            To his alarm, Klaus was standing frozen in the bedroom doorway, the Ouzi in hand.  Beyond him, the bed was empty.

            “Where--?”

            The front door opened at that moment, and Valery stepped in.  He was wearing proper clothing now: shoes, pants that were the right length but which had had to be belted in, and a shirt that was also a bit large.  He looked diminutive and fragile, and his hesitation when he discovered he was the center of attention made him seem even more benign.

            “I went to find you,” he told Klaus, crossing to Dorian to hand him his sweater. “And then I decided to find some clothing for myself.”

            Klaus did not look convinced. “My men will be here within two hours.  Till then, I’d like you to stay inside.”

            “All right.” Valery sank down on the sofa.

            “Why did you want to find me?”

            “To ask about Tarskov.  He will undoubtedly abandon his house here.  Do you know of any other residences he owns?”

            “So that you may track him down and kill him?” Klaus inquired.  Valery merely frowned. “NATO knows of other KGB strongholds where he might find refuge, but we are not in the habit of sharing our information with the COA.”

            “Ah.” Valery leaned back, apparently at ease.  Dorian couldn’t tell whether it was a facade. “I’m glad you know who I am.  Perhaps we can work together on the matter of Tarskov.”

            “It is not likely.  When my men arrive, you will be accompanying us to Bonn.  We have many questions for you.”

            “I will not be able to answer them.”

            “You would be smart to try.”

            Valery did not protest further, which Dorian found odd.  He joined him on the sofa, watching the smaller man closely.

            “I’m sorry,” he said. “I had no idea this was going to happen.”

            “Never mind.  I am still grateful to you for the rescue.  Surely my treatment at NATO will not be as bad as Tarskov’s.” Valery met Klaus’s eyes briefly.

            “Of course not,” Klaus snapped.

            “You’re the best at what you do,” Dorian observed suddenly.  Valery just nodded. “Do you prefer knives?  Guns?  Garrotes?  Personally, I have great difficulty with guns.” Klaus snorted his agreement, which Dorian ignored. “Knives are my weapon of choice.”

            “I have experience with various weapons,” Valery said noncommittally, watching him warily in return.

            “Then you’re quick.”

            “Very quick.”

            “And remorseless?”

            “No.” Now Valery’s eyes lowered. “I have remorse.  But I do what I must.”

            Dorian rose and crossed to Klaus. “When we go, we should leave the car where it will be found.  Is there gas in it?”

            “Enough.  What does it matter?”

            “Where are the keys?”

            “Here.” Klaus drew them out of his pocket impatiently and tossed them onto an end table.

            “I need to finish dressing,” Dorian decided. “You two play nice.”

            He went into the bedroom and slipped on his sweater under Klaus’s jacket, then rapidly checked his supply of weapons.  The knives in his boots and the dagger under his hair were intact, but the one he’d left in his holster was gone.  He had no idea when it had been taken.

            When he emerged, Klaus was standing closer to Valery, the gun pointed towards the floor, but still in plain sight. “In any case,” he was saying, “we now have your description and will share it with every law enforcement agency in the world.  Your days as an assassin are over.”

            “Would you believe me if I said that they were over a long time ago?” Valery asked, gazing up at him solemnly.  His eyes were their widest, and Dorian wondered how Klaus could withstand them.  If he hadn’t been so single-mindedly devoted to Klaus, Dorian knew he would never have been able to resist. “I only kill now to protect others.  The same as you do.”

            “Our jobs may be similar,“ Klaus conceded, “but our ideologies are completely different.”

            “And one is right while one is wrong?  Is everything so black and white?”

            “For the Major it is,” Dorian declared.  He moved between them and again sat down beside Valery. “For Klaus, everyone is either a good guy or a bad guy.  His job is to eliminate bad guys before they can hurt good guys.  Period.”

            “Fool,” Klaus muttered, but he moved away as Dorian had intended.

            “Which are you?” Valery asked, his attention now on Dorian.

            “I’m a bad guy passing for a good guy.  Or maybe a good guy mistaken for a bad guy.  It’s hard to tell.” While he spoke, Dorian picked up Valery’s hand.  It was thin and white and, when it curled around Dorian’s, much stronger than it looked. “Either way, I’m in love with one of the good guys.  I can’t let anything bad happen to him.”

            Valery’s eyes were bright. “That’s exactly how I feel.”

            Dorian glanced up to make sure Klaus was out of hearing distance, then lowered his voice anyway. “Please just go.  I can prevent him from following you.”

            “How far do you think I’d get in a car?”

            “Far enough.  Please.  I don’t want him hurt, but I don’t want you hurt either.  Klaus will hurt you if that’s what it takes--”

            “He and I are a lot alike.” Valery smiled at Dorian’s distress. “I thank you for your concern, but it’s unnecessary.  If you want to help, distract Klaus when the time comes.  Don’t let him leave the house.  Will you do that?”

            “Then you’ll take the car and go?”

            “I don’t need the car.”

            Dorian hesitated, not at all reassured, but Klaus had come back and was scowling at their linked hands.  Before he could say something rude, Dorian stood up and went to the window.

            “How large a boat did your men get?” he asked, just for something to say.  There was nothing new to be seen outside.  A lawn of unmowed grass surrounded the house on all sides, stretching in front to the empty road.

            “They didn’t specify.  It will be large enough for an extra passenger,” Klaus replied.

            “I don’t suppose any of my men will be aboard?”

            “Not if they value their skins.”

            Dorian fell silent.  He was very aware of Valery lounging on the sofa, equally aware that the man was braced to be on his feet and out the door in seconds.  Klaus was standing in the kitchen doorway again, the Ouzi held loosely but lethally in one hand.  If he didn’t know something was about to happen, he had to be dense, which Klaus wasn’t.

            Suddenly both the others tensed.  For a split second Dorian didn’t register it; by the time he realized that the buzz he heard was a helicopter, Valery was halfway to the door.  Klaus had the gun aimed and was shouting at him to stop.

            Dorian didn’t think twice: he threw himself into Klaus’s arms, wrapped himself around the German like a boa constrictor, and began kissing him for all he was worth.  Klaus flailed for a full minute, his finger fortunately not on the trigger, before giving up and lowering the gun.  The helicopter arrived, landed, and took off again without cutting its motor, so defeat was audible to them both.

            Since he wasn’t being punched out, Dorian opted not to loosen his hold.  He began to concentrate on the kiss, elated to have gotten as far as parting Klaus’s lips, even if he hadn’t quite gotten his tongue in yet.  An instant later he was sitting bereft on the floor.

            “YOU ARE AN IDIOT!” Klaus shouted, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

            “But a happy one,” Dorian responded promptly.

            If Klaus were prone to strokes, he would have suffered one at that moment.  Instead he ran outside, where nothing now stirred.  When he turned back, Dorian wondered for a split second whether he should be diving for cover, but Klaus stalked inside and chucked the gun onto the sofa.

            “There is no sign of them,” he announced. “You have allowed an assassin to escape.”

            “I’ve saved your life, you mean.” Dorian didn’t get up.  His legs were a bit unsteady. “He had a knife and he would have used it on you if you’d gotten in his way.”

            “He had no knife.  I counted those in the kitchen when we arrived, and they are all--”

            “He got one of mine.  I didn’t realize it till after you told me who he was.” Dorian sighed. “You wouldn’t have shot him in cold blood, and he would have had a chance to stab you.  I couldn’t let that happen.”

            “So you tried to asphyxiate me?”

            Dorian grinned. “Not exactly, darling.  If you don’t recognize a kiss when you receive one--”

            “SHUT UP!”

            Dorian shut up.

            It was another half hour before the Major’s men arrived.  Klaus had ordered Dorian down to the beach by then, too wound up to stay inside.  He was barely speaking to the Brit.

            “Well, it’s not entirely my fault he escaped,” the latter pointed out once. “It wasn’t my fault he got to the radio--”

            “Yes, it was,” Klaus replied icily. “You were wasting my time in the kitchen while he was calling his people.” He puffed angrily on his cigarette and scanned the horizon, refusing to face his companion.

            “You’ve got his description at least.  He may be picked up again.”

            “That will not change the fact that I had a known assassin in custody and let him go free.” He glanced at Dorian with a baneful smile. “Of course, when I tell NATO how and why he escaped, they will realize that you are not an appropriate operative.  They will see that you only hinder my missions, and you will no longer be welcome to work for NATO.  Yes, there is perhaps a good side to this fiasco after all.”

            Dorian was stunned. “That won’t happen.”

            “No?  The Chief might be stupid enough to hire you again, but his superiors will not.”

            “Klaus?  Do you mean it..?  But you need me...”

            “What is that expression?  ‘Like a hole in the head’?”

            Klaus’s amusement was too much.  Dorian turned his back, honestly upset.  After the progress they had made on this mission, he could not imagine their partnership coming to an end.

            “Don’t be so sensitive,” Klaus suddenly said. “We can still use you for simple jobs.  And you now have something else that will come in handy: the COA owes you a favor.”

            “What?” Dorian spun around.

            “I think Valery will take a debt of honor seriously, yes?  He will see it is repaid.”

            “If so, NATO will not be the recipient!”

            Klaus’s grin was entirely too smug. “We will see.  If you continue to work for NATO, that will no doubt be the result... Ah, here is the boat.”

            A veritable yacht was approaching them rapidly, and Klaus tossed his cigarette aside in order to wade out toward it.  Dorian was too furious to end the argument there, but he followed Klaus into the water to meet a dingy that Z was starting to lower for them.  Now was not the time or place to pursue the matter.  Later, Dorian determined, they would find as many opportunities to discuss it as were necessary to sway the Major to his point of view...

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't been able to find an English translation of the manga called Third Reich, but the artwork is so intriguing I supplied my own version of what it's all about. There were 10 volumes of the series published in the '80s.


End file.
